Swerve | 𝑷.𝑮.

Part 11

Italics is French

"I KNOW YOU CAN RUN FASTER THAN THAT!"

"NO I CAN'T! YOUR JUST INSANE!"

Francesca Lewis came to a stop a few metres ahead of her French friend, also known as Pierre Gasly.

The two had decided to bring back their daily runs together. Something that had formed after they bumped into each during a run back in 2021. Many a time had they attempted to drag Charles along but unfortunately, the Monegasque knew his way around Monaco better than the back of his hand so he always managed to slip away.

"I'm not insane, your just a slow poke." Francesca grins.

Pierre could only roll his eyes at her as he finally stopped in front of her.

Francesca raised her eyebrows and pulled a face causing the man before her to burst into laughter and double over since he was already out of breath.

They had run a long lap around Monaco, including the track itself, and now, finally to tired to continue, they stopped outside their favourite coffee shop.

The two looked like a mess, Pierre's cheeks and forehead was bright red, a small layer of sweat coating his skin and making his clothes stick to his body, the hair that fell over his forehead was messy from him attempting to constantly brush it out of the way and failing - Francesca had commented a lot on their run that he needed a haircut, but he could only grunt in reply. Francesca however, looked slightly less of a mess to Pierre, her cheeks were a lighter shade of red but she was also coated in a layer sweat, wearing nothing other than her trainers and a matching running set with her hair pulled back into a ponytail which was so close to falling out she didn't understand how the hair tie hadn't given up.

She had even said that the hair tie was less of a quitter than Pierre was.

They were enjoying each other's company for the day. Charles was spending time with his girlfriend, Alexandra, and his family - still not happy over the whole Arthur lockpicking his way into the apartment drama from the day before. Max's sister, Victoria, and her family had flown in to visit him and Lando was in an extremely grumpy mood and couldn't be bothered to leave his apartment for the day.

"So, what's the plan for today then, mon cherie?" Pierre questions.

"Movie and snacks?" Francesca grins in response.

"You know me so well." Pierre smirks.

The Frenchman wrapped his arm around Francesca's shoulders as they began a slow walk back to their respective apartments to shower the after-workout sweat from their bodies.

From an outside perspective, they would seem like a perfect young couple. With his arm around her shoulders and her lent into his side with an arm around his torso, chatting easily between themselves in a mixture of French and English depending on the comment being made and making the other laugh so hard they had to swerve around the path to avoid signs and streetlights.

But if you knew them, you would know that they were just Francesca and Pierre - Franierre as they were contently nicknamed by many drivers on the grid and the fans.

A better duo than Yukierre and Lestappen.

A 26-year-old with a heart that only beat for the 23-year-old next to him.

A 23-year-old who didn't know it yet, but had a heart that beat just as longingly for the 26-year-old she held so close to her.

Two souls with the biggest hopes and dreams that their younger selves wouldn't believe they were making come true...